


Rule like a Queen

by FallenRoses17



Category: Reign (TV)
Genre: F/M, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:28:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27160468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallenRoses17/pseuds/FallenRoses17
Summary: Alternative Universe: Queen Mary and King Francis rule France and Scotland with justice and with a fair hand. They have been for almost a decade. Will their heir be able to do the same?
Relationships: Catherine de' Medici & Mary Stuart (Reign), Catherine de' Medici/Mary Stuart (Reign), Claude de Valois (Reign)/Original Male Character(s), Elizabeth I of England/Mary I of Scotland | Mary Queen of Scots, Francis de Valois - Relationship, François II de France/Mary I of Scotland | Mary Queen of Scots, Kenna/Sebastian "Bash" de Poitiers, Lola Fleming & Kenna & Greer Norwood & Mary Stuart, Lola Fleming/Stéphane Narcisse, Mary Stuart/Francis de Valois (Reign)
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please bare with my horrible english. I am currently in my fourth year learning the language. Please feel free to comment nice things. I hope this fandom is not dead. Once called the "Heart and Country" on Fanfiction.Net. I wrote it when I first was learning English, using a translator. I abandoned it when I moved back home, but now I am back in America again. I decided to re-write the story and finish what I started. Details will change.

**July 5, 1568**

“For Scotland and France!” shouted their Queen, her voice thundering like a thousand lions.

The mightiest of men raised their swords, yelling and screaming out of fear and bravery. They were to die today. They knew that the march to reclaim the city of Calais from the hands of England was a journey for only the brave. And though they were to face their maker by nightfall, they found comfort that their Queen, Mary of Scotland and France was by their side. They rode for her. They rode for victory and for country. Among the soldiers and their masters, was King Francis II, and Mary’s brothers Louis of Longueville and James, Earl of Moray. Though they had holdings of their own, and inspiration to rally the crowds, they let Mary, the warrior Queen lead. She was like her Uncle, the Duke of Guise. An inspiration. A leader in battle.

However, there was no way the King of France would let his wife fight in this battle. His one concern that bothered Francis the most was forgotten by many during the time of war. You would only notice this issue when the Queen of Scots would remove her armor that protected her from straying arrows and swords. Her belly was swollen with the future.

Yes, a child. An heir.

And so, under orders of the King and her protective brothers, she stays back and watches her men march. She bids a farewell to her men, holding her swollen belly out to show that they were not dying in vain. No. They were dying for a future she was to give birth to. She kisses her brothers, and hugs them before they ride out to fight for her. She wanted to be there, but as Queen, this duty of having a child came first, and everyone knew that. She watches her brothers ride out, leaving her with Francis to say their farewells. They stare at each other, not wanting to say good-bye, but wanting to, just encase death takes one of them early.

“Be well,” she says, as she let go of her husband’s hand, “Come back to me.”

Her king nods.

“I will. For us and our child. I love you,” He declared.

“I love you too,” she says, “This child is starting to make me ache. By the time we take Calais, your child will be here.”

“Then, there will be much to celebrate,” he says, “It’s not goodbye Mary.”

* * *

Lonely and worried, Mary sits in the royal tent waiting for the news that the French and the Scots have won the battle. Once they have won, she could rejoin her men and celebrate. She hated being with child, but it was a duty that needed to be done. It had to be done. Who else would rule in her stead if she were to die? An heir is a promise of stability that she needed to give. If not, what kind of Queen would she be to leave her country without a sovereign leader? And so, she continued to wait and think. She sat on the royal chair, observing the map and every strategic move she had plan and ordered. She knew this plan was perfect. They could not lose. 

“Mary,” a voice called from outside her decorated blue tent.

“Come in Greer,” she answered, welcoming her lady-in-waiting and best friend.

She smiles, thanking the heavens that she able to join her. Her other lady in waiting, Lola was due any day, and Kenna, after her return from Spain, was in court with her new husband, and her “niece.” She was happy to find comfort in a such close friend. Greer was the only one she had left she could trust. She spent three days of travel from court to join her in the battle field so Mary knew that Greer was a loyal friend who would do anything for her. 

“How are you?” Greer asked.

“Horrid. This corset grows tighter by the hour,” she complains. 

“That’s how I felt with little Rose,” laughs Greer, “You aren’t due for another-“

Suddenly, Mary feels a sharp pain in her belly. She curses underneath her breath, squeezing the arms of the royal chair.

“Mary?” cried Greer, “Is it time?”

“Send for the royal physician!” Mary shouted, “NOW!”

* * *

She screeches in pain as the physician arrives. It has been hours since the pain started, and it seemed like there was no end in sight. No Queen has ever given birth on the battle ground. Ill equipped for such delivery, Mary only had the physician, Greer and two new ladies in waiting who came to attend her needs under the orders of the Queen Mother. She had no bed. She laid on a wool cot on the floor, covered in a blue wool blanket. It was hot. It was uncomfortable, but they knew there was no time to travel back to court. The castle was days away, and it was too dangerous to ride the Queen out of the battle ground especially since there was an active war going on three miles away. 

“Greer, somethings wrong,” cries Mary, as she reaches for her friend, “I can feel it.”

“It’s alright Mary, just hold on,” she says, wiping the sweat dripping down her face. “We sent a messenger to Francis. He’ll be here soon.”

Mary throws her head back, breathing in and out. She couldn’t breathe. Was this death? Was it coming for her?

“Lady Greer, I need to speak with you,” said the physician urgently.

“Tell me what’s happening!” the Queen screamed.

“Your majesty, you’re losing too much blood.” He says.

“What happens to me doesn’t matter,” she says. “If it comes down to it, save the baby.”

“Your majesty- “

“No!” she yelled, looking at the physician, Greer and the two ladies in waiting, “Do you understand?”

They looked at their Queen, not wanting to agree, but they nodded. Even if they didn’t want to.

“Yes, your majesty.” They whispered. 

* * *

With a sword in one hand, the King rode in freedom, celebrating his new win. They have won the city of Calais back from England. Back from Queen Elizabeth, the bastard Queen. The men cheered riding among the dead, pulling survivors and having them swear into new loyalty of their new King and Queen. And so, Francis smiles, sitting on his stallion next to his brother in laws.

“Your majesty,” shouted a messenger boy, bowing to the King, “From the royal doctor. I apologize, they wouldn't let me on to battle until you won.”

“What happened?” asked James, leaning side ways to see what the message was about. Francis's face turns pale, and he begins to shake. 

“Mary,” Francis said, “I need to go!”

He tosses the letter to James, riding off as quickly as possible. He disappears quickly, no one noticing the sudden sheer panic the King was facing.

“What happened?” asked Robert, as he pulls his horse next to his sisters brother. 

"We might have lost our sister," he says quietly. 

* * *

Francis rushes into the camp. The letter said that the Queen was dying. His Queen. His Mary. The physician met Francis outside the make shift gates, walking as he rushes to the tent. He wasn't paying attention at all. Only hearing a few details here and there. "This will be the last child," the doctor says, "She lost so much blood" and "She needs to get to the castle as soon as possible." 

"Mary!" he shouted, opening the tent. 

He pauses when he sees Mary laying comfortable on the make shift bed, holding their child. Their heir to the throne. Mary was pale, and tired, but she laid in bed proudly, holding their child to her breast. There was no maid to feed the babe, so she had to do it herself. She was weak, but yet so strong. She puts on a smile through the pain, hoping to mask her heartbreak from her husband. Francis knew all too well that his wife was putting on her brave face. She tries, but he knows her. The last time she was in bed after child birth, she was grieving the lost of a son, and before that, a lost of a daughter. He knew all too well that this child's birth was not only a blessing but a reminder of the two they have lost. 

"Our child-" he asked.

"A daughter," she said, with tears in her eyes, "I'm sorry-"

"No, don't be sorry." he says, rushing to her side. He reaches out to hold his daughter. He had a daughter. 

"Is she healthy?" he asked. 

Mary nodded, watching her husband kiss the healthy and strong infant. He begins to cry, bringing the infant to his chest. He whispers welcomes to their child, promising the world. Promising unconditional love. He was so in love. 

"What shall we name her?" she asked, "We lost our James and our Anne. Maybe Margaret?" 

"No, my sister wouldn't be pleased," he answered, "Marie? After your mom."

"Catherine will kill me," she laughed. "Luisa."

"I don't think so," said Francis, "Doesn't feel right." 

"Victoria," she suggested, "After your younger sister who passed." 

Francis pauses, starting at the sleepy infant. Victoria. What a wonderful name. It would make his mother happy despite the gender of this child. He knew the world was watching and waiting for a son. After the lost of little James, Scotland and France was pushing Mary to have another heir. A son. But Francis didn't care for the gender at all. He had a child. Another baby to love. His only son Jean was growing up, and he missed this. He missed holding his child and finally he had one again. This time it was his and Mary's. 

"Victoria de Stuart-Valois." he whispers, "I suppose this will be fitting for the next future Queen of Scotland."

"But not France," she says.

Referring the Salic Law. No woman will ever sit on the French throne, but Francis begged to differ. Maybe it was time for the Salic Law to be removed once and for all. Why couldn't woman rule? Why couldn't his daughter rule when he dies? England and France had a female monarch. Why not France? And so, he looks at his daughter, and back at his Queen.

"I swear to you and our daughter that I will make that change," said Francis, "Victoria will rule." 


	2. And Boys will Follow...

**October 27, 1568**

“Blow the wind, blow; Swift and low; Blow the wind o'er the ocean. Breakers rolling to the coastline; Bringing ships to harbor; Gulls against the morning sunlight; Flying off to freedom!” sang the Earl of Moray, Lord Protector of the heir to the throne.

He holds Victoria in his arms, laughing as the child looks at him. The babe smiled as James sang, dancing around the nursery like a lady-in-waiting. Being a hands-on Uncle was his favorite job. It has been since his brother John Stuart became regent of Scotland, and Mary ordered him to stay in France. Even though she had Robert, her half-brother from her mother, James and Mary were closer, and now a days, it was hard to find protestants loyal to her, and to France. The religion war was brewing, and Mary needed him. Victoria needed him. 

It only became deadly after Francis announced that he was abolishing the Salic Law. No one wanted another woman on the throne. Not even the Queen mothers. Marie and Catherine were dead set against it. Even refusing to hold Victoria during her christening. 

“You will rule,” whispered James, “How would life be if you did.”

The child coos in response. It was if she knew her gender has brought misfortune to too many, but her Uncle. Her Uncle James was lucky to have her. 

* * *

“Do you know what they’re sayin” shouted Adam Stuart.

“Watch that tone,” snarked Mary, “I may be your baby sister, but I am still your Queen.”

“Mary,” he said, his voice low and quiet, “No one wants to accept Victoria. You are still young-” 

"And if this babe is a girl, then boys will surly follow,” added a voice coming from the hall.

Mary rolls her eyes at her mother in law. Catherine de’ Medici.

“They rather have Jean, Lola’s son on the throne,” she added, “A bastard. No hard feelings Adam. But they want a son of France and Scotland.”

But it was true. No one wanted to accept Victoria as the heir to the throne. Her christening, a week of celebration was filled with war, and disagreements, and a coup that failed in Scotland. A coup that wanted Mary to abdicate so her cousin, Lord Darnley could rule. He was married to a high-born girl. Arabella Stuart, and she had given birth to a son they named Alexander. A promise. A promising replacement for Mary, and for her cousin Elizabeth.

“The physician said that I will not be able to bare anymore children,” explained Mary, “Why won’t you see that?”

“Because that same court physician told me I was unable to bare children,” sneered Catherine, “And look I had 10 children.”

“But that is you, not me,” said Mary. “Victoria will rule unless God says otherwise. Not man.”

* * *

“You know, both you and Mary are young,” said Charles, “A boy will follow.”

The King looks at his younger brother as the watch over the cliff and into the deep roaring sea. They had ridden their horses to the edge to prepare for the arrival of Charles new fiancée. Lady Madeline, the young girl who they met not too long ago in the same spot. Charles was no longer that little boy he once saw at court. He was now a man. A man with power. Charles had become a close advisor to Francis. It was nice to have a privy council Francis could trust. Luc Narcisse was Lord Chancellor, replacing his father, Charles had a seat as well, along with a few Dukes loyal to the crown. Alongside them were new protestant Lords that was ordered to join them to keep the peace between the faiths. One of them being Mary’s older brother from her mother. Out all of them, Charles was the closest sibling to Francis, well Bash was close to him too. 

“I have a boy,” said Francis, “Do you not know your nephew Jean?

“Not a bastard,” said Charles, “Francis, if you and Mary were to die young, they would dispose of her, and make – “

“And make you King?” scoffed Francis, “You? Would you do such thing?”

“No!” he said candidly, “I think you should proclaim more power for Victoria.”

“And how would you go about that my Lord?” asked Francis.

“Well your majesty,” the young man said openly, “Give her lands and titles, and announce intended engagement.”

“For a 3-month-old?”

“Mary was engaged to King Edward at 9 months, then to you around 6 years old. That gave her power. Let’s face it. Women, even Queens, get power from the promise of engagement.”

* * *

And so, Francis and Mary talked about the future for their daughter. They still wait for the Salic Law vote with all the Dukes, Marquesses, Earls, Viscounts, and Barons, and but until then, they planned a ceremony to award Victoria with lands and titles. Which was never done to a princess of France. The princess and high-born ladies of France got titles and land from their husbands. Even the daughters of Scotland had faced such treatment. Not to mention, they had no holdings or accounts unless they were married. Daughters with dead fathers and no brothers would be forced to live a life without formal titles, and little money, as lands and dukedoms would revert back to the crown. How sad it was to be born a lady. Mary was not going to let that happen to her daughter.

“How would she be styled?” she asked, holding her infant daughter close to her.

“Her majesty, Princess Victoria de Stuart-Valois” said Francis, “Or I suppose we should add her christen name.”

Mary nodded.

“Maybe change the order for the titles and incorporate the Scotland titles. Her majesty, Victoria Elisabeth Catherine de Stuart-Valois, Princess and Great Stewardess of Scotland, Duchess of Brittany, Dauphine of France and Viennois, Lady of the Isles and the Duchess of Rothesay.” suggested Mary. 

“And Albany?” asked Francis. “Shall we add that too?”

“That title belongs to a second born child” said Mary.

Suddenly the tension between them surge. 

“But we won’t have one,” snapped Francis, “So she should have it all!”

“Then she should be Duchess of Angouleme then!” shouted Mary. “Strip your brothers from titles that should belong to her.”

The King and Queen looked at each other, unaware of the frustration both of them felt during the day. Mary looks at her sleeping daughter in her arms, who wasn’t stirred by the tension of the room, then lays her in the crib beside her.

“Are you not pleased with her?” asked Mary, breaking down in tears.

“Of course, I am,” he replied, pulling Mary to his side. He kisses her on her forehead, and holds her.

“Everyone is telling me- “

“That boys will follow,” said Mary, as she wipes her tears away, “I know me too.”

“Then let’s show the world that they’re wrong,” replied Francis, “Give her titles of an heir. Give her a marriage arrangement that would send the world a message.”

“But a marriage at this young age?” she questioned, “Francis, don’t you want more for her.”

“Of course, I do, but the marriage will bring her power. Even if it’s a fake promise,” explained Francis, “And so I ask we look into Henry de Bourbon, Prince of Navarre, a protestant prince and a cousin of yours, and my distant cousin Charles Emmanuel I, Duke of Savoy, an Italian French Spaniard duke.”

“I would like to add Lord Alexander Stuart, heir apparent to the Earl of Lennox,” added Mary.

“Henry Darnley’s son?” scoffed Francis, “Why?”

“Power,” she said, “Victoria marries Alexander, and Elizabeth dies without an heir, we unite Ireland, England, Scotland and France.”

“You want her to have everything,” said Francis, “And she will. I promise you.” 

* * *

And yet, he doesn’t know if he could keep that promise. He sits in the royal nursery and reminisces the time he spent here with his 9 brothers and sisters, and his bastard siblings. He wondered if he would ever fill this nursery with more children, but he couldn’t bare to think about it. He has a daughter. An heir. He had accepted it. And so, he watches his daughter dream away. So innocent. So sweet. She does not know that her birth was such a misfortune to many. Caught in his own thoughts, he doesn’t hear his mother come in. She puts a hand on his shoulder, pulling him to reality from his deep thoughts.

“Why don’t you love her?” he asked, “You never held her. You don’t talk to her.”

“I am scared,” she admits, “The Valois line was run by men for generations. No female has sat on the throne on her own birth right.”

“Then she will be the first,” he adds.

“And when she is corned in the world run by men, who will protect her?” asked Catherine.

“Your brothers who can rule in her stead, Henry Stuart, or some usurper?”

“Then, I will make sure she is safe.”

“No man will keep her safe. She must be taught to protect herself,” the Queen mother said, finally picking up her granddaughter for the first time.

She looks at the baby, starting into her deep blue eyes, and long blond hair. She was a Valois alright. Appearances and all.

“We will manage the disappointment of your birth,” she whispered to the child, “I will make sure you will survive and will reign over all of France, Scotland and perhaps England.”


End file.
